


Diurnal Dreaming #11: Detenete

by maven



Series: Diurnal Dreaming [11]
Category: CSI: Crime Scene Investigation
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-09
Updated: 2013-10-09
Packaged: 2017-12-28 20:21:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/996156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maven/pseuds/maven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A change in a relationship leads to a change in perspectives.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Diurnal Dreaming #11: Detenete

**Author's Note:**

> This series is mainly canon up to the end of Season 5. Everything after that is in the vague realm of "didn't happen"... sort of like the sequels to the Matrix and Star Wars 1-3.

**+++++**

I awake slowly, a sensation that's still new enough that I savour and appreciate it. I'm lying in the middle of Catherine's bed, wrapped around her pillow and covered with some soft blanket. The bed is slightly dipped at my head and I can literally feel eyes watching me. I try desperately to think of something sexy and sultry to say but finally just open my eyes.

"Lindsey!"

"Sleepy head."

For the first time in my life I thank God I'm awful at flirting. "What time is it?"

"Mom said to remind you that you don't work today before I tell you. It's around 7:30. At night," she qualifies.

"Oh. How was the birthday party?" I ask. My last clear recollection was talking with Catherine after the movie about nothing in particular and everything in general before falling asleep. I had a vague memory of Catherine telling me she was leaving to pick up Lindsey and swing by the office for something.

"Fun. The cake was shaped like Sponge Bob but it wasn't a sponge cake."

"Cool. We doing something tonight?"

"I'm going to spend the night at Aunt Nancy's. You're having a sleepover with Mom."

I suppress the urge to pull the blanket over my head.

"Umm. How do you feel about that?"

"It's none of my business," she says, almost by rote.

"What?"

"Aunt Nancy says it's really none of my business who Mom dates. She told me that when I was a little kid and kept trying to get Mom and Dad back together. You know, like that movie? She told me that it was none of my business who Mom dated because she was the adult."

"Oh. Well, I care. I'm your business."

"Why?"

This goes beyond the simple fact that Lindsey is Catherine's daughter and the most important thing in her life. "I went to see your Dr. Kate."

She looks at me suspiciously, "Okay, but are you changing the subject?"

"No, I'm explaining. A lot of people have told me to see someone like Dr. Kate and to really listen and really talk and just not fake it. But you're the first person I listened to. So, obviously, your opinion matters to me. And I want to know how you feel about me and your mom."

"People will tease you," she tells me with deadly seriousness.

"I know. I've been teased about this before. So I shouldn't?"

"I didn't say that. I think you're cool and you and Mom can talk about work. She could never talk to Daddy or to Aunt Nancy about work because it's all secret," she says and I assume she means the fact that we have to maintain confidence during an investigation and often until trial.

"What about you? Won't the kids tease you?"

She rolls her eyes, "Sara, I'm in middle school. If they can't find something to tease you about they make it up," she tells me. "At least if they tease me about you I know they're just being idiots."

I make a mental note to find out what they're teasing her about at a later date. "So if I pick you up at school sometime it'll be okay?"

"Sure. But can you wear your gun and badge? That's always so cool and butch."

"Lindsey," I ask in shock, "do you know what that means?"

"It's what Aunt Nancy calls Mom when she's wears her tank top to work."

"Well, that's good enough meaning until you get older," I say. "So we're cool?"

"Yes, but if you hurt my Mommy I'm going to have to break your kneecaps," she tells me.

"If I hurt your Mom I'll buy you the baseball bat," I tell her and add to my mental list a note to find out if Lindsey's allowed to watch the Sopranos.

"Lindsey, your Aunt Nancy's here," Catherine says from the doorway. I wonder how long she's been listening.

"Do you want to borrow my Barbie sleeping bag for your sleep over?" Lindsey asks.

"We'll manage but thanks," Catherine says.

"Okay. Bye, Sara. Bye, Mom. See you tomorrow after school. Can Sara come with you to pick me up? Thanks. Remember, dress butch, Sara," she shouts as she runs out the door.

"Do I want to know?" Catherine asks. I simply shake my head before hiding under the covers. "Don't move," she orders. "I'll be right back."

A few minutes later I hear the front door close followed, soon after, by the bedroom door. I peek out and watch as Catherine crawls up from the foot of the bed and gracefully turn to sit using the headboard as a backrest.

"How come you can do that and look good and I look like an idiot?" I protest.

She doesn't answer, just steals my pillow to add it to the one already there before patting between her knees, eyebrow arching up when I hesitate. I'm so whipped.

"I should ask my shrink why you like this position," I mutter as I settle in, my arm hooked through her raised knee and her arm across my lower ribs.

"I told you why, it makes me feel tall. If you get to be tall when we're standing then it's only fair I get to be the taller one here sometimes. We need to talk."

Something of my panic must have come through because her arm tightened. "Whoa, stud. Talk good."

I can't help it. I laugh and twist around to look over my shoulder. "Stud?"

"If you do everything with the intensity that you put into work and kissing, yeah. But first, we need to talk. Eyes front."

"Why?"

"Because you find it easier to have these conversations if you don't have to look at the person."

I turn around and she tightens her grip. "Talk," I say.

"Brass asked me to swing by the office on my way to pick up Lindsey, remember?" I nod. "And there were a number of revelations but there was one that stood out. I reminded someone that my family was very important to me."

"You needed to remind them? Catherine, they all know how important Lindsey is to you."

"I was referring to you."

"Oh. But, um, whatever this is," I gesturing to the two of us, "it's just starting."

"That's what this talk is about," she says, hooking one ankle over mine. "When you're young, and you fall in love, you expect it to last forever. And when it doesn't and the next one doesn't I think you stop expecting that. That you start expecting it to be temporary."

"And?"

"And I want to start this with the expectation of forever. No matter how scary that is."

"Is this about Lindsey?" I ask. "I know yo-yoing people is bad for kids."

"Only a little."

"Why me?" I ask.

"Because you're intense about your job. Because you kiss well. Because you asked Lindsey twice if it was okay with her that we see each other. Because you can lie with me in bed for five hours and not expect sex. Because you have interesting tastes in music and movies which I seem to enjoy learning about."

"Oh," I say when she seems to have stopped. I decide to comment first on the easy one. "You like my movies? They've all been animated."

"That's fine. You know, it was at a movie when I realized Eddie and I were hopeless."

"How come?"

"Lindsey was about 2 or 3 and Eddie and I were still trying to make it work and he suggested we go see the new Romeo and Juliet."

"Romeo and Juliet?" I ask. I never new Eddie well but he didn't seem the type to suggest Shakespeare.

"He saw the trailer and I think he thought guns for him and Shakespeare for me. Anyway, it's getting to the end and he leans in towards me and whispers, 'don't worry, she'll be okay'."

I turn to stare at her in amazement. "You're kidding?"

"No. I was afraid to see Titanic when it came out with him in case he didn't know the ship sank. Not the type of person to spend my life with."

"Oh."

"If I'm going to try to do something like that it has to be someone with much better taste in movies."

"Oh."

"That would be you," she says.

"Oh." I realize I'm taciturn even by my standards. "Catherine?"

"Yes?"

"I don't expect it or presume anything but I would very much like to make love with you."

"Why do you think I ditched the kid?" she teases. "Look at me." I do so. "Say my name?"

I know what's going to happen so I say her name, low and slow and she smiles so I start to say it again but her kiss interrupts me, her right hand moving to cup my breast. And so intent am I on enjoying what her right hand and mouth are doing to me that I don't pay any attention to the subtle motions of her left hand until they stop being subtle and my world shatters.

**+++++**

When the universe reforms I'm lying on my stomach stretched out along the edge of the bed.

"I used to touch you, you know," Catherine says. She's using my back as a pillow and drawing pentagrams in the small of my back.

"I know. You used to put your hand on the small of my back when you stood behind me. You stopped."

"You'd tense up," she countered. "I just figured it out," she said, lifting her hand. I wait for about thirty seconds and she touches me, hand splayed so it covers most of the small of my back. I can feel all the nerves firing and my skin rippling. "I thought you didn't like me touching you. But it was the opposite."

"My back's always been sensitive like that. It was either tense up or lean into you like a puppy. Not appropriate at work."

She laughs. "No. And confusing as hell when we didn't know each other so well."

"Will work be weird now? For us?"

She sighs, which causes another ripple avalanche as her breath dances along my spine. "No for us but maybe for the rest. Damn, that reminds me. I mentioned revelations when I went in before, right?"

"Yeah."

"Remember when I kissed you in the interview room?"

"How can I forget the first time you really kissed me? It's like a looped tape playing over and over when I fall asleep."

"Funny you should use that analogy," she says.

**+++++**

"Willows."

"Where are you, what are you doing, can you talk and, if yes, what are you wearing?"

"I'm in a china shop trying to identify and trace the movements of the bull. I can talk. I'm wearing the ever-popular blue coveralls. Why?"

"Wanted to know if I should put your soup and salad on your desk or in the break room fridge. What you were wearing was pure curiosity."

"Better put it into the fridge."

"Okay, it's in a paper bag marked Catherine inside a paper bag marked Grissom, okay?"

She laughs, "I can see the logic in that."

"Talk to Ecklie?" I ask.

"Yeah. You do know that you're not his favourite person, right?"

"I am very aware of that fact. What's the situation?"

"What we expected. There's nothing he can do about it except watch us like a hawk. Vulture, actually. And, of course, fire both our asses if there's a screw up and there's even a hint that we covered for the other. Plus any of your reports that I sign off on will be audited. Plus he's notifying his superior about a possible public relationship fiasco should the press get a hold of the 'lesbo crime cops'. I'm paraphrasing by the way. He was much more politically correct while being much more obnoxious."

"Great, do I have to see him?"

"No. But I expect he'll make an excuse to see you just to push some buttons. So remember the deal."

"I remember. Catch you later? I'm pulling into the lot."

"Count on it."

I attach the cell to my belt, pick up the two lunches and head into the office.

**+++++**

"Greg."

"Sara," he says cautiously. He watches me put the lunch bags into the fridge.

"Relax. Thanks for keeping it under your hat but I think it's about to become public knowledge. So if you want to get any mileage out of the gossip, go for it."

He continues to stare at me suspiciously. "Is this a test?"

"No, Greg."

He grins suddenly, "I get to tell Grissom."

"No, I think I should do that."

"Ecklie?"

"No, Catherine already did."

"Doc Robbins? Sofia? David?"

"Knock yourself out."

**+++++**

I don't find Nick and Warrick until the end of their shift.

"Gentlemen," I say from the open door way. There's a clatter as Nick drops a three hundred dollar scope onto the table.

"Sara," he squeaks.

"Sara," repeats Warrick, tone more controlled but still cautious.

"I understand you were very, very naughty."

They exchange a glance as if to bolster each other and then nod.

"Very bad," Nick agrees.

"Inexcusable," Warrick agrees.

"Catherine talked to us," Nick says. "We handed over all the tapes and stuff."

"It'll never happen again," Warrick adds. "And we'll make it up to her. And you. Both of you."

I smile. "You know," I say, "I spent about three minutes thinking up tortures for you two." They both pale. "Then I was going to just be vague and let you sweat. You know, let your paranoia do the torturing."

"And now?" Nick squeaks.

"Now," I say, "I've just spent a very relaxing weekend and am in a pretty mellow and forgiving mood. So you're off the hook. Catherine's arrangement still stands though. And guys?"

"Yeah, Sara?" Warrick says.

"It had better not happen again. Because you wouldn't like any of the twenty-three things I came up with in those three minutes."

They again exchange looks and nod vigorously at me.

**+++++**

"Thanks for seeing me, Gris. There're a couple of things I need to bring you up to speed on. I'm seeing someone a..."

He interrupts. "You don't need to keep me appraised of your social life, Sara. I..."

"No," I interrupt in turn. "Just listen. I'm seeing someone about my problems, for the trauma, not the drinking specifically. And, actually, yes I do need to appraise you of my social life."

"You are? You do?"

"I'm seeing Catherine. Socially," I qualify but realize that the term is still a bit vague and decide to further qualify. "Romantically." I decide not to add 'naked' and 'as often as possible' as he looks ready to faint.

"Catherine? Our Catherine?" he asks, pointing in the general direction of Catherine's office. "Willows?"

"Yeah."

He shifts uneasily in his chair. "Listen, this doesn't have anything to do with, um, well, ah?" Words failing he takes to pointing from himself to me several times. It takes a few seconds to figure out what he's implying.

"God! No! Grissom, don't flatter yourself," I blurt out.

"Does Ecklie know?"

"Catherine told him at the beginning of her shift."

"Who else knows?"

"By now? Pretty much everyone. Sort of a 'cry havoc and let loose the Greg of gossip' sort of thing."

"Why are you telling me?"

"Well, frankly, if I didn't tell you, you might never notice. And you need to know because of potential conflict of interest issues."

He winces and nods. "True. Ecklie's going to set out some ground rules for work?"

"He has," I assure him and he flashes me a sympathetic smile.

"All right," he says. "Anything else I should know?"

"Think that's it," I answer. "I'll get back to work."

"Sara," he says as I open the door. I turn back but he's not looking at me but seems very engrossed with a report on his desk. "Catherine's very fortunate. You both are."

I smile, "Thanks, Gil."

**+++++**

"Sidle."

"Yes, Mr. Ecklie," I say, tone even.

"Catherine told me the news." From his tone and expression I suspect he's constipated either mentally or physically. I doubt he's about to offer congratulations so I just maintain the smile and wait.

"Despite my misgivings about -well, about you- there's not much I can do legally about this. Just remember that when you fall you'll be bringing both Grissom and Willows down with you. Understand?"

"Yes, Mr. Ecklie," I say, tone still even and I to widen the smile.

"Fine," he says, turning and walking away. I keep it up until his office door slams.

"You owe me so big," I mutter to myself before heading back to my lab.

**+++++**

"She never lets me eat popcorn if I watch a movie in here," Lindsey says, snuggled into her Barbie sleeping bag in the middle of Catherine's bed.

"Well, we had a deal. She'd let me eat popcorn during the sleepover movie and I wouldn't yell at the mean bully at work all week. No matter how much of an ass...inine jerk he was," I explain from my spot to the left of Lindsey.

"And," prompts Catherine from the other side.

"And I'd vacuum the entire bedroom to make sure all the popcorn was picked up. She always like this?" I ask Lindsey.

"Big time," Lindsey says. "Try taking off your socks."

"My problem was not your taking your socks off. My problem was your taking your socks off while watching TV and dropping them behind the couch," Catherine corrected.

"Doesn't sound that bad," I comment. Big mistake.

"See! Sara says it's okay!"

"There were eighteen pairs of socks behind the couch!"

"Okay that's different. Bad Lindsey."

She rolls her eyes at me and her mom reaches over to ruffle her hair. "Face it, kid. The adults stick together. It's the only way we can survive. Now," she asks, turning to face me. "What are we watching again?"

"Iron Giant."

"Why?"

"Because you need to see Brad Bird's vision in this film in order to fully appreciate the themes of The Incredibles. Besides," I add, "one of the characters reminds me of you."

"Who am I?"

I blink at her a few times over Lindsey's head while I consider my answer. "You're Hogarth because you always believe I'm capable of being more than what others expect me to be."

She smiles and Lindsey groans and mumbles about mushy stuff and stabs the volume button several times.

"Who are you?" Catherine whispers over Lindsey's head. I lean in and steal a kiss.

"I'm the giant flying space alien robot with built in machine guns and lasers and delusions of superheroism."

"How come you get the cool characters and I get the ones with silly names?"

"Just lucky I guess." I grab a handful of popcorn from Lindsey's bowl, smiling as she halfheartedly slaps at my hand before turning back to Catherine. "Just lucky."

THE END


End file.
